Angelina Johnson was not someone many people enjoyed making angry.
For one, she had an extremely large temper. A temper which would go off frequently, and would proceed to make the girl's voice louder. And louder. And then quite a bit louder than that.
Mixing into that would be the fact that Angelina was tall, had a presence of someone who could, quite literally, kick your ass, and the fact that, if looks could kill, quite a few people would have dropped dead years ago, it was in most people's best interest to stay away from her any time you could see a cold gleam in her eyes. Or whenever she had a knife in her hand.
(As an aside fact, Angelina's best friend, Alicia Spinnet, had been making quite a bit of money selling charts that defined her basic looks, and which mood they matched up with. Unfortunately, much of that money had been repaid to clients who came back with a shoeprint on their butt)
Now, if asked, Angelina would swear this uncontrollable temper was not her fault. In fact, it was the fault of all the 'damned idiots in this crack house school who keep getting in my way'.
Unfortunately, Fred Weasley was one of said idiots.
"Whatcha doing?" The elder Weasley twin ('Only by two minutes!' the younger Weasley twin would be shouting could he read this) asked, as he plopped down beside her on one of the two-seater couches in Gryffindor's common room.
This was a nightly routine. Every day, directly after dinner, Fred would sit beside her and ask her the same question. Every day, directly after said question, Angelina would purse her lips and try to resist the urge to hit him.
Every day, after conversation had continued, Angelina would find the urge was too hard to resist.
And every day, Fred Weasley would head up to the boys dorms with a bruise by his left eye, and a lopsided smile that could only come from someone who was completely lovesick, or someone abominably stupid.
(Angelina chose the latter every time Alicia brought it up)
But back to the story.
"Homework, Weasley. The same thing you should be doing, seeing as OWLs are only two months away now."
(At this point, the aforemention Alicia would pack her belongings and head to her room, singing the 'K-I-S-S-I-N-G' song so that only her best friend could hear it. It is reported that Alicia would go to bed covered in ice water that had been dumped over her most nights)
"My lifetime ambition is to open a joke shop with my younger brother," ('Two Minutes!') Fred explained, as he did quite frequently, while twirling Angelina's spare pencil around like a baton. "How many OWLs do you think I need, Angie?"
At the improper use of her pencil, and the mention of a hated nickname, 'Angie's' hand had started to twitch. Clever first-through-third years had retreated to safer areas by now. Detail will not be gone into about the stupid first years.
"I wouldn't know, Weasley, considering that I didn't realize you had any ambition to begin with. But, then again, you must have some- starting to reach a world record for number of detentions, aren't you?"
Though meant as an insult, Fred didn't take it as one.
"Wouldn't that be counted as ambition, sweetie? I mean, it's trying to break a record."
"No. That's counted as a lack of sufficient brain cells to process information, such as the information clearly being sent that one person sitting near one other person in a nearly empty common room is not wanted."
Fred didn't say anything at this point. He never said anything at that point.
(Which worked out quite well for him, because it was about then that Alicia, like she was doing now, would walk into the room, asking 'to borrow a pencil', and be met with complete silence. She would then walk out of the room, like she was doing now, cursing her luck, or lack thereof, at coming into rooms at such bad times)
After Angelina's best friend left, Fred took another stab (a slow, painful stab) at conversation.
"Which homework you doing?"
Angelina was now resorting to the tactics she had started employing two months ago, when the whole thing had started. She'd respond with a question or two, counteracting his, making him talk repeadetely, and blanking out for the response.
Which, put simply, would just mean her keeping him talking with questions, and not giving a kneazle's backside about his response.
Which, and you guessed it, she was doing now.
"How would you know Weasley? Do you even pay attention in class?"
Tonight, Fred Weasley chose to scoff at this display of tactics.
"You used that last night Angie. As well as the night before that. Has it not bored you yet?"
Her fist was trembling quicker.
"By the way, question four is wrong."
----
Fred Weasley, older Weasley twin ('Stop saying that!') stumbled up the stairs that night, like normal, with a lopsided grin on his face.
And no matter how many times the girl of his affections would hit him, scream loudly at him, or call him many variations of the word 'stupid', it wasn't something anyone but she would deny.
They were in love.